


Nighttime fantasies

by forever_nerd



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Devil form, Established Relationship, F/M, Fairy Tale Like, Fluff and Smut, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Light Angst, Monster sex, Oral Sex, Possessive Devil, Post-Season/Series 04, Smut, Wings, fantasies, over-stimulation, the devil is feeling nostalgic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_nerd/pseuds/forever_nerd
Summary: Lucifer fantasizes about Chloe while she sleeps.His source of inspiration? greek mythology!
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 26
Kudos: 172





	Nighttime fantasies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violent_ends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/gifts).



> I love, love mythology annd I have missed the sea too much!
> 
> So, this happened.

As she lies spent on his bed, her lips set in a soft smile, her hair a golden pool around her, he lets himself wander to long forgotten paths, his heart nostalgic, carrying his Detective with him.  
  
He thinks of clear blue skies and seas as smooth as oil, the two meeting in the horizon’s line, a mirror image reflected in itself again and again.  
  
He thinks of hair as golden as the sun that dominates the summer sky, a colour even Apollo and his chariot would grow envious of.

Of eyes as blue as the sea, and just as enticing and dangerous.

He would be the mortal man and she the immortal; a sea nymph, a Nereid, her call irresistible.

He would follow her imprints on the wet sand and watch her mesmerized as she bathed in the heat of the sun, the gauzy slips of fabric covering her skin the colour of sea foam.

Her hair would fall down her waist in a tangle of intricate braids and he would be willing to trade _anything_ , everything to taste the salt of her sun kissed skin.  
  
And when their eyes met, she would beckon him to her and he'd obey. He would climb rocks and barely miss the sea urchins, oblivious to any pain or danger, lost in the sea of her eyes, sunk in a religious trance -the only one he would ever allow himself.

And he would fall on his knees, a true worshipper, and beg with his lips for the salt between her thighs.

And she would bestow it as a gift upon him; the salt of her world and the salt of her desire one on his tongue-all for him.

And they would mesh their worlds together like their bodies.

And he would make her love the brown of the earth, the warm richness of wet soil more than the ocean.

And she'd stay with him and love him.  
  
 _For as long as you’ll have me_ , she'd say.  
  
 _Forever_ , he'd tell her.  
  
Forever.  
  
Even if that word never holds quite the same meaning for them.

But it's not really a matter of the denotation of the word itself as much of its topography.

Their _forevers_ , inconsolably, are worlds apart.

"I can hear those wheels turning," Chloe mumbles into his pillow.

"I am just thinking about you," he says, placing a kiss at the corner of her eye.

"Think about me in your dreams," she orders resolute, unwavering in her demands.  
  
Oh, his detective can be soft. As soft as the lapping of the waves on a warm summer day.  
  
But she is hard, too. Her will as unyielding as the metal of an arrowhead, her eyes as sharp as knives.  
  
And so the setting changes.  
  
He can see her, running among the beech trees, the goddess of the moon, its light painting her hair silver.

A maiden, pure and implacable in her purity.

Men fear her for she is a punisher, following her own rules, unforgiving of the passions of the flesh.

And he?

Oh, can he be himself in this little fantasy?

(Let’s disregard the obsession with horned, goat-legged men inspiring carnal passions.

Desire was tall, dark and handsome, thank you very much.)

A creature born of light and desire, a tempter as well as the tempted.  
  
Who better to entice the most virtuous of goddesses?  
  
How far could he flex those bow limbs, how much could he draw that bowstring before it snapped?  
  
Oh, he would be so eager to play with her.  
  
She would come upon him at a clearing in the shallows of a lake. He would be washing sweat and grit from his skin in the cool waters, unaware of the sharp, blue eyes of the huntress on him.

And what prey he would make for those lovely eyes.  
  
His skin would be pale under the moonlight, her very own orb, and his muscles would ripple enticingly as he moved in the shallows, his hands both hard and soft on his skin.

And she would watch, enchanted by the lines of his shoulders, the muscles on his back, by those dimples and those cheeks, half-submerged in the dark water.

She would stare mesmerized at his pale skin and its sharp contrast to his dark, raven like hair.  
  
Unknowingly, her feet would take her closer, an unfamiliar flutter unraveling in her stomach.

She would wonder at the heat, a burn unlike any other, spreading at the lower half of her body.

Her silhouette would break from the trees and the susurrus of leaves would make him turn around.

Her eyes would shine in the dark, like a cat's, and he would stare spellbound at her.  
  
At the sharpness of her jaw and the fullness of her lips.

At the gentle swell of her breasts, accentuated by her metal breastplate, and her curves covered by leather. At the soft material that ended in a V between her thighs, leaving her shapely legs naked under the strips of leather falling from her hips.

His desire would be painfully obvious under the soft moonlight- a fatal mistake for any man to make in her presence.

But for once she would let go of her unrelenting punishments; she would forget of her original wish to her father, the mighty Zeus, for purity and chastity.  
  
She would pull off her bow and arrows, take off her sandals and wade slowly into the dark water.  
  
In the stillness of the night, under the silver moonlight, she would know desire for the first time and he would scoff at himself for thinking he _ever_ knew of it before he saw her.

She would touch him hesitant and shy.

Would run her fingers over his lips to feel his hot exhale on the pads of her fingers.

She would caress his stubble and splay her fingers on his neck, feeling his Adam's apple bob as his whole body thrummed with want under her innocent touches.

Her fingers would move slowly over his chest and abdomen making his muscles bunch and tremble.

And his breathy groans would break the silence of the night and make her eyes glint like silver under her moon.  
  
Their first kiss would be a mere touch of lips, soft and sweet. Their second would be the slide of his tongue on her lips and then there would be no more counting.  
  
She would be as wild as the forests and the beasts she kept under her protection.

Impatient and hungry as he’d try to free her of her hunting garments.

And she would feel relief, such sweet relief once his lips trailed on her skin, once they wrapped around her virgin flesh. Her moans would be sweeter than a nightingale's song and he would kneel before her, desperate to worship her body as it truly deserved.  
  
He would lavish her skin with kisses and he would lap tirelessly at the honey between her thighs.

And she would touch and kiss, curious and wanton.

He would be the gentlest lover the world had ever known; she would tremble and shake in his arms, torn between her pleasure and that newborn sweet ache in that secret place between her thighs that she had condemned to apathy so far.

But no more.

And they would become one under the stars, their love making soft but passionate, his body a perfect match for hers.  
  
And finally she wouldn't care about what anyone might say about the goddess of chastity, letting a stranger have her precious virtue taken away from her.  
  
For they wouldn't know.  
  
They wouldn't know how willingly the mighty goddess had surrendered to him and how she had put away her chastity for his love.  
  
And how she let the forests and the lakes behind her and he flew them to the skies to make love forever under the canopy of stars, both his and hers.  
  
He kisses her naked shoulder and drags his nose along that gentle slope and into her hair. She smells so good, intoxicating and he feels his erection grow painfully harder.  
  
He wonders, as he sometimes does, if this all-consuming want will ever have an end. 

He doubts it will.  
  
If only he could carry her into the skies and make love to her forever.  
  
But theirs is not a tale of myth.

It is one of harsh realities and ugly truths.  
  
And she has seen his ugliness. She has witnessed the mangled monster that lives under his skin no matter how much he would have liked to keep it hidden from her.  
  
Her body trembles and a frown mars her beautiful face. He unfurls his wings, satisfying their deep rooted desire to always be close to her and stretches one of them over her, letting it cover her almost completely. It smoothes out the frown on her face and her sleep continues on peacefully and he rests next to her just as peaceful at the thought that he can always be her dream catcher.

She is light and he is darkness-but at least he manages to keep some darkness at bay.

And he can’t help but think of another pair of lovers, somewhat mismatched as well.

And the setting changes once more, this time a tad more familiar.

She would be the maiden, the daughter, _Kore_ , the goddess of vegetation that had been taken against her will.  
  


And he would be the savage, the brute, the King of the underworld, as dead and unfeeling as his subjects.  
  
But that wouldn't be quite right now, would it?  
  
She would stare at him from a distance, eyes hard, furious and scared and demand she be returned to her mother.

Her bitterness would swell in her eyes, making them as dark as the stormy sea.  
  
Oh, she would be _breathtaking._  
  
And he would stare back unflinching, his mask in place because the words he’d want to tell her would always be out of reach when her eyes glinted like that with her anger.  
  
She would call him many things in her one sided arguments; but _cold, uncaring, incapable of love_ would hurt the worst.  
  
Because he did love.

His heart, so unused to the feeling, would cramp and ache just by being in her presence.  
  
And every night he would visit her chambers and lie next to her sleeping form and tell her all those words that evaded him.  
  
 _My heart is alive and thrumming just as yours, my darling. I was brought to life after centuries of loneliness by your grace._

_I may be a God but I was weak as any other mortal man when I first laid eyes on you. The sight of your hair, spun gold under the brilliance of the sun, the iridescence of your eyes, the sweet curve of your upper lip…_ _  
  
I felt so much, so suddenly, I was certain I had become one of Cupid's playthings, struck for his entertainment while I pined away for you, a flower I could never hold without making it wilt.  
  
_

_Forgive me and let me show you my world, my home._ _  
_  
And bit by bit the steel would melt from her eyes, and she would stand closer to him, close enough to see the warmth in his dark eyes, to see the stars he had put on his skin, to remind himself of the beauty of the night sky.  
  
Until one night, as he would lie behind her and tell her of his day, she would turn around and let her fingers trace the lines of his face. He would hold his breath, her touch a balm to his aching soul, and hope.  
  
Hope that maybe a creature as lovely, as pure and good as her could love a man such as himself.  
  
And she would listen, her eyes locked with his, and he would marvel because he had never known that the sky could _burn_.  
  
There would be more touches and talks and smiles until the night when she would close the gap between them and press her lips to his. And he would fumble like a boy, so full of want but awkward, shy and she would smile and press her lips to his again and again.  
  
And he would know the warmth of the Sun in the Underworld.  
  


And he would tell her so.  
  


And she would kiss him, longer, sultrier and he would want and _want and want._ _  
  
You can touch me,_ she would whisper.  
  


_I want you to._  
  
His hands would caress her over her sheer nightdress; she'd moan into his mouth and he would swallow them like sweet morsels of summer fruit.  
  
And then there'd come the night when she would wait for him naked on her bed, eyes welcoming and lips soft and he would drop to his knees, desperate to show her all the ways that he could love her.  
  
He would kiss every inch of skin; her nipples pale rosebuds between his lips, the dip of her belly button filled with the dew of spring.

And there between her thighs, something far more precious than ambrosia; sweet and tart and tasting of her love, her desire for him.  
  
He would kiss and drink and soar with her as she found her pleasure, her whole being suspended between his lips.  
  
He would love her with his body with a devotedness that was both new and terrifying.

And there on his thighs, with his arms wrapped around her, she would no longer be just the queen of the Underworld but the queen of his heart as well.  
  
  


Lucifer stares at Chloe, at her lovely forehead and temples.  
  


Oh, he knows she would look lovely with a crown.

A queen on her throne next to his, and a queen in his bed where he would gladly kneel like a commoner, desperate for any scraps of attention.  
  
He snuffs the image out mercilessly, unwilling to imagine her any longer in that wretched place.  
  
His hell is nothing like Hades' Underworld. It's far crueler and far more relentless and he would die a thousand deaths before he let her live there.

His feathers tremble on her skin, an echo of this ever-constant grief, and she shivers, twisting in his arms.

"You are still awake," she says, eyes sleepy and expression soft.

"I am," he says with an equally soft smile.

"Are you still thinking about me?"

"Always," he says and she kisses him.  
  
He showers her face with kisses and lingers on her lips, as per her request. They are playful and soft and full of want but there are other lips he is far more desperate to kiss.

He kisses down her body, wet open mouthed kisses that make her quake and he wastes no time teasing either one of them.

He is ravenous.  
  
When his lips place an open mouthed kiss on her clit he lets out a throaty moan of pure bliss which in turn makes Chloe groan, her fingers digging into his hair at once.  
  
He has thought so much of this delicious act that he could spend the rest of the night eating her out and it still wouldn't be enough.

He kisses and sucks that sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips, reveling in her mewls and moans, and blissfully laps at her nectar.

And all the while his wings stretch above him, feathers trailing softly over her breasts, her ribs, her belly.

_"Lucifer_ ," she breathes desirous, fingers pulling him closer; only _she_ can make his name sound so good.

She's so close, he can taste it on her lips, on his lips and when he pushes his finger inside that perfect cunt and twists it so, she moans brokenly, pushing her hips closer to his mouth, chasing the high of her orgasm.

She whimpers overwhelmed and he kisses her clit, making her tremble. Her fingers push him back, too sensitive to accept more affections but he is relentless.

He runs his tongue up her slit, gathering the sweetness there.  
  
"It's salt and honey and it's _mine_ ,” he whispers on her skin, his hungry eyes set on hers, and she almost comes again just by his words.

"Yours, yours, yours," she agrees easily, lost in a haze of bliss.

"It's nectar, it's ambrosia and I can't get enough my love. I want _more_ ," he begs his lips hovering over sensitive nerves.

"Yes," she breathes, her thighs falling open again, her fingers caressing rough stubble. He kisses the pads of her fingers and returns to his bounty.

He's gentle, so unbearably gentle, but it's enough as strung up as she is.

And she's even sweeter the second time around, even more perfect. Small kisses and barely there licks take her to the edge, her sounds making him push his hips into the mattress, yearning for her touch.

With a caress, a tease of his thumb she convulses and falls right into his arms again, and he drinks gratefully this different sort of divinity, blessed and pious like he has never been before.

He pulls back his wings and climbs up her body, aching to be one with her again. They kiss, tongues tangling, and she hums at her taste on his lips.

She's so wet that his cock slides between her folds, bumping deliciously against her clit and she groans, her legs wrapping around his waist.

He pushes inside her slowly and lets her consume him, lets her dominate all his senses.

She is hot and tight and wet, but above all he is hers and she is his, and he trembles with that knowledge when he bottoms up inside her.  
  
"You feel so good, so perfect," she murmurs on his cheek and buries her fingers in his feathers.

He starts to move, with slow, deep thrusts, that make both of them groan and he vibrates with the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through his body-her lips on his, her fingers in his feathers and their bodies fused together as they are.  
  
Oh, he fantasizes about many things; nymphs and goddesses and immortal women but at the end he would never trade his Detective for any of them.  
  
He cherishes everything about her-from her boring brown shoes to the way her heart breaks at every crime scene. From her awful cackling to the care with which she touches his scars, as if he ever deserved _such_ tenderness, such love.  
  
He would never ask her to change a single thing about her.

But of himself? Oh, if he could he would rid himself of all those awful complications.  
  
All those things that have inspired fear in her soul, he would see them gone.  
  


He realizes that his thoughts are spoken aloud only when Chloe cradles his face, making him meet her eyes.  
  


"And what makes you think I'd want you to change anything? That I'd _let_ you change anything?"

He kisses her again, his hips undulating. But she's not done.

"I love you. Both your darkness and your light... and maybe the first one a bit more."

Her words are broken, interrupted by her moans but she is as relentless in her love as he was.

"If only to show you that you more than deserve it," she says, kissing any part of his face close to her lips.

"Chloe, darling—“

He stops as he usually does, ridiculous creature that he is. As if the words could ever hold more gravity than the star she has set alight in his soul.

She kisses him, kind, _always_ so kind to his cowardice and pushes on his shoulders just so to let him know she wants to change position.

He gets so lost in her presence sometimes that he is afraid he grows _boring._ But thankfully his Detective excels at leading and never seems to mind.  
  
She turns around, her back to his chest and he can't help but drink her in, entranced.

His hands follow his eyes, tracing the lines of her shoulders, the curve of her spine, those lovely dips just above the glorious swell of her backside. He covers her body with his, and she arches that delicious derrière into him, making him slide into her effortlessly. _  
  
"Bloody hell Chloe_ ," he breathes, keeping his thrusts slow.  
  
She is even tighter like this and it won't be long before he unravels, winded up as he is.  
  
He pulls her hair to the side, kissing her profile as he fills her up again and again.  
  
"Show me," she stutters and he struggles to understand, lost as he is in her. "Show me," she insists her hand on his face.  
  
He will never understand this desire of hers but he will never question it either. For he longs for this affection, this acceptance far more than he can ever tell her.  
  
So he lets the Devil come to life; feels his skin go rough and cordy, feels only scorched skin where there used to be hair, feels his feathery limbs become leathery membranes.

He moves slower, aware that even his cock is _other_ in this form.

But Chloe, so trusting, so loving, twists her neck, baring her softest parts to him, aching to be kissed.

And he indulges her, of course. He lets thin, roughened lips trail a line of kisses from her shoulder to her jaw.

He lets fingers tipped with ugly, sharp claws caress her temple and push golden hair back.  
  
His wings flare above them protectively, bathing her skin in red hues and he finds himself wondering once more if this _real_.  
  
It could never be hell, not when Chloe stares up at him with such adoration.  
  
" _Lucifer_... you feel amazing," she tells him, unafraid, kissing the burnt flesh of the hand that cradles her face with the utmost care.  
  
Her voice along with the sharp pleasure of her cunt so tight around him, pulls him back to the present and he moves with renewed vigor, desperate to feel her clench around him.

He can feel her hand pressed against her intimately, rubbing tight circles on her clit and occasionally squeezing his cock as he pulls his hips back.  
  
He can feel his orgasm about to crash into him and begs her with lips and tongue and cock, unwilling to let go before he feels her unravel first.  
  
The moment she feels his teeth graze the point where her shoulder meets her neck, she implodes, her body trembling and fluttering around him, her moans the sweetest music in his ears, and he follows, grateful, his own orgasm incredibly intense, blinding him to anything other than her and the points where they become one.  
  
They ride the waves of their orgasms together and he turns to his side, pulling her with him, letting his wings wrap around her.

He withdraws carefully and she hums, satisfied, nuzzling his neck and kissing his skin there.

Her fingers follow the veins on his wings and he shivers, a different kind of climax burning his insides.

He swallows his fear and his nerves and lets his mangled lips form the words.

"I love you," he whispers.

And it's terrifying and elating and fitting too- to utter these words with these lips.

Because the angel knew love once.

But the Devil?

For the Devil it's a first.

And it's hers like the rest of him.

"I love you," he says louder and she smiles.

"I love you too, Lucifer. _All_ of you," she says and kisses those lips, rough but soft too.  
  
For her.

Only for her.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading that as much I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> As always thank you for reading!


End file.
